With friends like Lanny and Lucy I am able to happily remain under the illusion that I am merely living and have not yet been reduced to a line of text, zeroes and ones--not because I know that I am alive but because I know that you are.

The turns I love in this poem are the syntactical ambiguity of the line "of something", allowing you to be either an example of something flat and thin or a flat and thin example (of something that might or might not be flat and thin), and the ensuing ambiguity of whether "illusion" is used ironically or not (perfectly distilled by having the line itself read "the illusion I was"). There is something jewel-like about this one...